And I Am the Least of These
by Aerilyn
Summary: This is a tale, like all good fairytales, about magic and true love. But the magic is dark, and the love one-sided. This tale holds no beautiful princesses or heroic knights. Just Rosalind, an insignificant young girl who would sacrifice everything for the happiness of her best friend, a dark creature named Rumplestiltskin. But sometimes, happily ever after is out of the question.
1. Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

1. First of all I just want to say thank you for stumbling across my story and giving it a chance.

2. I understand that "Mary Sues" are not looked upon in a favorable way, so I have tried my absolute hardest to make Rosalind as far as possible from one, while still remaining true to her character. We must realize, however, that the characters portrayed in OUaT are "fairytale characters" and as such, all have "mary Sue" qualities about them. Rosalind really isn't an OC, however-she is in the original Rumpelstiltskin Grimm fairytale, I have just developed her character for the purposes of this story.

3. This story is divided into parts-the first part is "The Past", which are basically flashbacks of life in fairytale land, and basically anything that happened in season 1. I just needed a way to introduce Roz-similar to the way OUaT episodes play out in the beginning when introducing a new fairytale character. The main meat of the story takes place in the present, or season 2.

4. I am open to all types of reviews-both positive and negative. I just ask that if you read a chapter, please leave a comment. If I don't get reviews and critiques, then my writing will never grow!

4. Enjoy! If you have any questions or are confused by the storyline or the way the chapters jump to and fro, do not hesitate to message me!


	2. The Past: So the Rumors were True

_Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the king, and in order to make himself appear important he said to him, I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold. The king said to the miller, that is an art which pleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to-morrow to my palace, and I will put her to the test._

_And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, now set to work, and if by to-morrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die. Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for the life of her could not tell what to do, she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more frightened, until at last she began to weep._

_But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, good evening, mistress miller, why are you crying so. Alas, answered the girl, I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it. What will you give me, said the manikin, if I do it for you. My necklace, said the girl. The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold._

_By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door opened again, and the little man appeared, and said, what will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you. The ring on my finger, answered the girl. The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold._

_The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough, and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, you must spin this, too, in the course of this night, but if you succeed, you shall be my wife._

_Even if she be a miller's daughter, thought he, I could not find a richer wife in the whole world._

_When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, what will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also. I have nothing left that I could give, answered the girl. Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child. Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the miller's daughter, and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold._

_And when the king came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a queen._

_A year after, she brought a beautiful child into the world, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, now give me what you promised._

_The queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, no, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world. Then the queen began to lament and cry, so that the manikin pitied her. I will give you three days, time, said he, if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child._

_So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with caspar, melchior, balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another, but to every one the little man said, that is not my name. On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is shortribs, or sheepshanks, or laceleg, but he always answered, that is not my name._

_On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted - to-day I bake, to-morrow brew, the next I'll have the young queen's child. Ha, glad am I that no one knew that Rumpelstiltskin I am styled._

_You may imagine how glad the queen was when she heard the name. And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, now, mistress queen, what is my name, at first she said, is your name Conrad? No. Is your name Harry? No. Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?_

_The devil has told you that! The devil has told you that, cried the little man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in, and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two._

The king pushed her roughly into the room. It was barren except for a single spinning wheel in the center of the room, surrounded by stacks of straw. "Your father tells us you have a gift. You will spin this straw into gold by morning!" The king roared, greed making his lips curl into a smile. He was already a rich and powerful man, yet it still wasn't enough. "If you fail in this task, you will hang in the gallows by evening!"

"But sire," the young woman cried, "I know not what my father-!"

Her father interrupted her. "Your majesty, if I may but have a few moments alone with my daughter?"

The king looked down at the scraggly man in front of him, disgusted by the sight of him. HIs clothes were torn and smudged with filth, dirt clung to his air, and an odor oozed from him that was sure to slay a dragon. But his daughter was the ultimate prize-not only was she pleasing to the eye, but with her skills there wouldn't be a day that went by that his kingdom wouldn't be bursing to the seams with wealth. If putting up with a stinking pile of dung was what he had to do, then he would endure it.

"Very well..." He spoke under his breath, relieved that he could finally leave the man.

Her father closed the door as the king turned away. He waited for a few minuts, listening as the sound of his boots faded away, then he turned savagely toward his daughter. "Rosalind! What are you thinking?"

"Father, why would you lie to the king? You know I cannot do this!" Her father had never been a very honorable man, but she was shocked that he would stoop this low, to put her life on the line like he was doing.

"You will do it, Rosalind!" She gasped as her father grabbed her shoulders, shaking her as he growled at her. "If not for me, they would have come drug you off to the Ogre Wars with that boy five years ago! Is that what you Rosalind-to die by the hands of a monster!"

She winced at the pain that was shooting through her arm. Her father might have not had very much meat on his bones like other men, but it hadn't done much to weather is grip on her. "No father, but how am I to do spin dirty straw into gold?"

"I don't care how you do it!" He nearly screamed at her, pushing her away. She stumbled backwards, catching herself on the sturdy wood of the spinning wheel. "Call to the fairies, if you have to! I won't live in the forest anymore, Rosalind, sleeping in the dirt and eating insects off the ground. I'll have a palace, with servants and everything that I deserve!"

His voice softened. "Do you not love me, child? Do you not desire to see your father a happy man?"

Rosalind didn't find their life so terrible. They had run away five years ago, a few days before her thirteenth birthday. They left their village in such a hurry-she didn't even get the time to say goodbye to Bae, her best friend in all the village. They were coming for her, the kings men. He needed more warriors to fight the Ogres, but it wasn't warriors he was coming after. It was children-boys and girls alike-that he plucked out of the neighboring villages. He gave armour that was too big for their shoulders, a helmet that fell over their eyes, and a sword and shield that they couldn't even hold at the same time for the weight that pulled on them.

So off they fled, her and her father, into the forest. They kept running, night and day, and hadn't stopped until their feet were bleeding. Her father had crafted a makeshift home for them, out of sticks and branches and mud. Rosalind cooked for them every night, gathering herbs and grasses and weeds, occasionally catching small animals in her traps and scopping fish into her straw baskets.

It had been enough for her-it wasn't like her life in the village, but at least she had her father. She only wished that it would have been good enough for him, but she knew he was unhappy. He had been a very important man back in their village, a man that everyone had looked up to and came to for advice. Out here, her father was nothing, and she knew it wounded him deeply. It had cut him deeper than the flesh and bone, it had cut his pride.

Five years they lived in the forest like this, and while Rosalind only grew prettier and stronger, he grew more bitter and angry. Secretly he wished he would have never decided to run away-he could have held his position of importance in the village. They would have taken his daughter, but he could have remarried and had more children.

That was when he decided his life as a nobody had ended, and he would become important once more. His daughter would help him-this entire predicament was her fault, and she owed this to him.

Rosalind leaned down, pulling the straw from the hem of her simple brown dress. Her dark red hair had gotten long, nearly sweeping the floor as she leaned her head down. But as she came up, her green eyes hardened.

"He doesn't want you!" Rosalind wasn't one to saw such horrid words to her father, but she knew that he blamed her. He had changed in the last five years, and not into a man that she was proud to call her father.

With those first few words out of her mouth, she grew bolder. "Did you see the way the king was looking at you? You disgust him! It's me he wants, father. He would throw you out like dirty scrubbing water!"

She knew she had struck him hard with her words when his eyes flashed for a moment. He said not a word, but raised his hand above his head.

Rosalind found herself on the floor, cradling her cheek where his blow had found its mark. She though she tasted blood, but wasn't sure.

Her father stood over her, and she could could see the anger and hurt that still danced in his eyes. "How dare you speak to me that way, you ungrateful wench! I should have let the king men have you!"

She stood to her feet slowly, getting to her knees first. She pulled the straw from her hair and from her gown, letting it fall back to the fllor. It smelled awful, like they had brought it in from the stables. "Given the choice between you and the ogres, I would have welcomed the ogres with open arms." She spoke the words without even looking at him.

He just chuckled, a thought having just occured to him. "It doesn't matter what happens, Rosalind. I win either way-you somehow spin this straw into gold and the king gives me a place in the castle. If you don't and he kills you, I can go back to the village. Have a good night, daughter..." He laughed as he opened the door and closed it harshly behind him.

Rosalind looked down at the floor as she heard the scrape of the metal. He had locked the door...

She turned and stared for a moment at the spinning wheel, then in a bout of anger kicked it. The sturdy wood didn't break, but it tipped and kicked up straw as it fell over on its side.

There was a window on the wall behind the spinning wheel, and Rosalind put her hands across the cold stone of the still. Below her was a steep drop, that gave way to the trees of the forest. At that moment there was one thing that she had in common with her father-she wanted to go home. Not the makeshift structure in the forest, but home, back to the village with Bae and his-

"Such disrespect for a beautiful work of art!"

A voice both startled and confused her-had she not heard someone come in? Surely she couldn't have missed that atrocious metal scraping...

She jerked her head and gasped at the man that stood on the other side of the room, if he was even a man at all. He was lean, with stringy hair and skin that appeared a pale, purplish hue. He was dressed in purple and gold, with a silly grin plastered across his face.

But despite the fact that she had never seen a creature that looked like him before, she knew, almost immediately, who he was.

It appeared that the rumors were true, the odd tales that Rosalind and her father had heard from strangers and passers-by in the forest. She thought they were just stories after all. A man that she had once known, turned into something dark, and evil. Filled with power and anger and malice at all the men that had laughed and scorned him and called him a coward. The same man that had chased her and Bae through the fields and always welcomed her into his home with open arms.

"So its true..." She whispered out loud, her hand coming up without her consent to clutch at her throat.

"Yes, it apears it is, Rosalind." She shuddered at he spoke her name, further cementing the fact that she knew him.

"Rumplestiltskin, what happened to you?" She inched closer, peering at him.

"I didn't come all this way to talk about me, dearie," he giggled, setting the spinning wheel upright with just a simple wave of his hand. "It seems the king had given you quite a task." He gently kicked the straw out of his way as he neared her.

"They said...they said you changed..." She ignored his words, craning her neck so that she could peer into his face.

"Everyone changes, dearie. Some by situations, and some by...choice." He grinned as he said the last word, like it was an inside joke that only he was in on.

"You called me Rosalind...you remember me?"

He smiled devilishly. "I'm not one to forget a face...or a name. Especially a name."

Rosalind wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the chill that was in the room. Rumplestiltskin leaned down to pick up a piece of straw, then flicked it away like it was nothing. "Tell me what it is that you want, Rosalind. I assure you I can make it happen."

"Oh I think something like that is beyond even your abilities." She laughed half heartedly, and leaned against the open window.

Rumplestiltskin giggled at her absurd remark. "Well we won't know until you tell me, dearie."

She looked down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers for a moment. "I want to go back home, back to the village, and Bae...when we were children and you would chase us out in the fields, and we'd catch crickets late into the night."

She looked back up at him. "Can you do that, Rumplestiltskin?"

He looked at her oddly, tapping his finger at her. "Is that really what you desire? I can spin that straw into gold for you, and by morning you stand ready to gain an entire kingdom full of riches!" He whirled around, holding his hands up.

She just shook her head. "No...that isn't what I really want. Marry a man that I do not love, or death. To me both fates are equally matched. Now, can you give me what I truly want, or not?"

He grunted, but shook his head. "I can control many things, Rosalind, but time is not one of them. Tell me, why would you choose to give up such riches? I can give you anything you want, you understand..."

Rosalind looked at him for another moment. He was so much like the man that she left behind, but so much different.

"How is Bae?" The question was abrupt, that it nearly caught him offguard.

"Bae is...gone." He might be a new creature now, but that didn't take away his memories. In his mind's eye he could clearly see Rosalind and his boy, running after each other in the forest, fighting each other with ordinary sticks that became mighty swords of great strength once they picked them up.

Rosalind had been a wild girl full of spirit, running through the village with her red hair breaking free from their braids. It seemed the two of them were inseparable, and over time the man had come to think of her like a daughter. Her own father was so distracted and concerned with other things, that she had taken refuge with him and Bae, and he always welcomed her into his home. If she and her father had still been at the billage when he became the Dark One, he would have killed her father and taken her in.

But of course those memories were in the past, back when he was nothing more than a weak little worm, crawling around in the dirt and trying not to get stepped on.

He was the one doing the stepping now.

"They...didn't take him in the Ogre Wars, did they?" She could feel her throat begin to swell.

That question put a momentary smile on Rumple's face. "No-I killed them before they got the chance!" Then the smile began to drop at the sides, until it was nothing but a grim line across his face. "He wanted a new life, so he went somewhere else...a land not touched by magic."

Rosalind opened her mouth to say more, but Rumple waved his hands in the air. "But as I said, I am here to make you an offer, dearie!"

"I told you, you can't give me anything that I desire..." She turned away from him and looked out the window, high over the tree tops, back in the direction of her village.

Rumple watched her closely, at the way she gazed out of the window, the longing that swam in her eyes...

"What about a way of escape from the castle?"

"And how shall we do that? The drop would kill us..."

"Not with magic," he giggled, and she suddenly turned to face him, an idea forming in her mind. An escape from the castle...Yes, if she couldn't go back in time to her village, then she knew exactly what she wanted from him.

She turned fiercely, her eyes bright with fire. "An escape is jsut what I want...take me with you!"

Rumple's face dropped-that wasn't exactly what he had in mind. "Now just why would I want to do that. I have no use for you-"

She grabbed his arm. "I can help you with your magic-I can gather supplies for your potions and help you mix them. I cank cook, and I can clean. I'll do anything-just please take me with you!" She pleaded with him.

"You'll just be in the way!"

"No, I promise I won't! I'll do anything you ask, I swear it!" She fell to her knees, her grip on him tighening.

Rumple looked down at her arm that was cluthing him, then back up to her face. She did have a point-she could do the insignificant things, the less importnat things. That would give him more time to focus on his magic. No more gathering the ingredients for his potions. He was starting to like the idea-his own personal work mule...

But then another thought crossed his mind, a thought that made him cringe. "Do not expect, dearie," he explained in an even, controlled tone, "that life with me will be as it once was. I am that man no more-who I am now will not chase you into the fields and catch crickets."

She shook her head, letting go of him. "I understand."

"So that is the price..." He whispered under his breath with a giggle.

"What do you mean?"

He held up his hand, giggling once more. "All magic comes with a price. I take you away from here, and the price is your unwavering servitude to me, forever. You will do as I tell you, with no questions asked. Do we have a deal, dearie?" As he asked he stepped an inch closer, a smile curling around his pale purle face.

Rosalind thought for a moment, perhaps about to change her mind. Forever was, after all, a very long time. But then she hd another thought, this one pertaining to her father, and a king that she could never love. Compared to them, being a servant in Rumplestiltskin's house seemed as easy as...

Catching crickets in the dark.

"Yes," she said, a gleam of something in her eyes. Courage, hope, fear-who knows what it was?

"Alright then, Rosalind." He wrapped his cold hand around her wrist, his dark eyes meeting hers. He waved his fingers in the air. "Let's go home, shall we?"

_And so the tale goes, the young, red-headed woman stayed with him in his manor for five long years..._

This is a tale, like all good fairytales, about magic and true love. But the magic is dark, and the love one-sided. This tale holds no beautiful princesses, or heroic knights. Just Rosalind, an insignificant young girl who would sacrifice everything for the happiness of her best friend, a dark creature named Rumplestiltskin. Sometimes, happily ever after is out of the question...


	3. The Past: Just Another Day in Paradise

_*It was recently brought to my attention that Cora was in fact the miller's daughter in the series. I had NO idea of this (i guess I must have missed that in the episode), and didn't think that the miller's daughter was in the series at all! So I do apologize, and I will try to make this story work with Rosalind as the miller's daughter."_

It was beginning to get late. No one had been in the shop for hours, though he didn't expect them to. Not many people around here wanted to be any closer to Mr. Gold than absolutely necessary, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He glanced behind for a moment at the open door flooded with light that lead into the back of his shop, where his ledgers and books were kept, and then moved slowly to the door of the shop, stabbing the floor with his cane as he moved.

He looked out of the glass for a moment beflore flipping the little plastic sign around, where the "Open" sign faced him. Today hadn't been very busy, but he didn't mind it much because it gave him a little time to straighten things up. He didn't like seeing his shop fall into disarray.

He leaned in the doorway of the records room, watching a young woman scribbling away in one of his many ledgers. Her long, dark red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, though strands of it had fallen away and were hanging in her face. The leather-bound ledger was so old that every few minutes as she was writing dust would dance around her like moquitos and she'd have to brush it away with a wave of her hand.

"Lillian-"

She gasped, scraping the pen across the page as she jumped in her seat. "Gold-geez you scared me!" She laughed, pulling the loose strands of hair away from her forehead.

"My apologies, Lillian. I was just closing up the shop."

"Oh-", she looked up at the clock that was hanging above the door. "I didn't realize it was time yet. I just need to finish up these few entries." Lillian was the shop's only employee-not many people were lining up at the door to get applications from Mr. Gold. Not that he was looking to hire anyone, either. Lillian was just fine-she kept the books, did a little cleaning up here and there, and ran errands when Mr. Gold couldn't leave the shop.

But most importantly, she gave the man someone to talk to.

"Those books will be there in the morning-it's late. Let's go home." If he'd let her, he was sure that she'd be here til dawn, scrawling across the pages of those ledgers and wiping the dust from the displays.

She shook her head with a smile, knowing any attempt to change his mind was useless. She heaved the thick ledger on the shelf with the others, coughing as a cloud of dust blanketed the air around her.

"Don't forget your coat, Lillian. It's a bit chilly out tonight." He slipped it off the back of her chair and handed it to her.

She punched her arms through the sleeves, buttoning up the front. "You know you are the only one in town that calls me Lillian?"

"Lillian is such a lovely name-why would you want to shorten it? A lily is a flower that fades and dies, but Lillian is a beautiful, confident woman who can do anything." He threw her a wink as he started for the door.

She laughed again, coming up behind him and turning off the light. She walked behind him in the dark shop, listening to the hollow thud of his cane hitting the floorboards. It was almost like listening to very slow morse code.

She had known Gold for a long time, so long that she couldn't even remember the day she met him. It was just as if...she had always known him, she had always worked in his shop. She didn't even call him "Mr. Gold" anymore, which came as a shock to most of those in Storybrooke. Mr. Gold was the one man in town above all others that got respect, though it was more so out of fear than anything else.

But despite their closeness there was one thing she knew she'd never be able to tell him...

As they stepped into the night air she shivered beneath her coat. Gold had been right-it was nippy out here. "You wanna get something to eat?"

Gold just laughed. "Not tonight, love. Maybe tomorrow."

She knew he was going to say that-she didn't even know why she asked him anymore. Every night was always the same answer.

There were very few people on the street, but the ones that were made sure to give them a wide berth as they passed. They gave the pair a quick glance and looked down at the sidewalk, picking up their pace for just a few feet until they passed them, but it wasn't anything that Lily hadn't been grown used to.

"I went to the hospital to see Henry," she said, trying to close the silence between them. Henry was one of the few people in town that didn't think of her as an outcast just because she happened to be friends with Mr. Gold. He was a sweet kid, and he always had a way of bringing a smile to her face.

"Oh did you now? And how is our young friend doing?"

"Same-Dr. Whale wouldn't let me stay long, but he said they still don't know what wrong with him, though I did hear Sheriff Swan having some nasty words with Regina."

Gold snorted. "Oh I'm sure you did-did you happen to catch what they were talking about?"

"I didn't hear too much-they were in a supply closet. Sheriff Swan seems to think Henry's condition is Regina's fault."

Gold chuckled to himself, a knowing chuckle that Lily didn't pick up on. Henry's condition being Regina's fault-now that was the understatement of the year.

"Didn't Regina and Sheriff Swan come to the shop today? I thought I heard them while I was in the back." Lily dug her hands deeper into her pockets to ward off the cold, enjoying the little spots of heat from the friction rubbing against the coat's wool lined pockets.

"Remind me to pick you up some gloves tomorrow," he noted. "And yes, they did come to the shop today. They were just asking some questions-if I had noticed him acting strangely in the last few days." He figured if he was going to lie, he needed to keep it simple.

"It's kinda funny-you know Henry is on the whole fairy tale kick?" She asked as a thought suddenly came into her head. "Well you know how he couldn't figure out who I was in his book?"

"Yes. I seem to recall you were very upset that you weren't a character in his book," Gold said playfully.

"You liar-I was not upset!" She punched Gold in the ribs, careful not to knock him off balance. "Ok, maybe I was a bit disappointed, but the last time I talked to him he said he had figured it out."

Gold stopped walking, so briskly that by the time Lily noticed she was already a couple of steps ahead. "Are you alright, Gold?"

"Yes, yes, of course." He seemed to stare off for just a second, but then he focused back on her. "And who are you? I bet your Mother Goose, aren't you?"

"Are you saying I look like a goose?" She exclaimed in mock outrage, to which he held his hand out as he started to walk with her again.

"No, not at all! So who does our young friend believe you to be?"

"He showed me this story in his book. I'm Rosalind, a poor girl whos dad tells this king that she can turn straw into gold. She makes a deal with this guy-grrr, what name did he say?" She tried to think. The name was something long, and started with a R. Dang it, it was right on the tip of her tongue!

"Rumplestiltskin," Gold finished for her.

"Yes-that's it! Did Henry show you the story too?"

"Let's just say I've seen the book several times, love."

By now they were walking up the drive that led from the street to the well manicured lawn of Mr. Gold's home, only a block away from the shop.

She began to dig in her pocket for the key. Gold allowed her to stay in the guesthouse behind his own had tried to give him money countless times, though he would never take it, but instead let her do things around the house. There were times she felt like a child, doing chores around the house for her dad.

"You're not by chance searching for this, are you?"

Lily turned to face him and could feel the relief spreading across her face like a blush. Gold had her keyring in his hand, extending it to her.

"Thanks." She knew the embarassment was probably dripping off of her face.

"I saw it laying on the table. I thought you might need it later on." That was him-always looking after her, noting the small details that she always seemed to overlook.

"Well goodnight-see you in the morning." She turned to walk down the cracked driveway, perhaps the only thing on this property that wasn't in top shape, knowing the next six words to come out of his mouth...

"I'll wait until you get inside."

"You don't have to do that, Gold. I'll be fine!" She called over her shoulder. She pretended that it annoyed her, but in fact there was a secret part of her that cherished that small gesture.

"I don't do it because I have to, Lillian!"

She drug her feet across the grass, knowing that he was there, watching her. That walk to the guesthouse always seemed like it took just a second longer everytime. It was quiet tonight-not as many crickets as usual. Even the stars seemed dimmer. When her feet hit the little cement porch, she turned and gave him one last glance. He waved to her-he was telling the truth, he wouldn't leave that spot until she had closed the door behind herself.

* * *

She rested her forehead against the wood of the door she had just closed. She let her eyes drop down, to the once yellow mat, now browned over the years with dirty boot couldn't even remember what it had looked like when it was clean.

She drug herself through her small apartment to bedroom, which took no time at all. The guesthouse wasn't large by any means, but it was good enough for her. The living quarters was only big enough to hold a faded gold couch and a small albeit heavy side table made from solid oak. The table would have been beautiful if it wasn't all scratched to hell. The living room opened straight up into the kitchen, with its light green and while tiles layed out in an even checker-board pattern.

She opened the door to her bedroom, which was the room directly next to the living room. Taking off her coat she threw it atop her sewing machine, half way covering the dark blue scarf that slithered across the desk, still unfinished.

"Who knows-maybe I'll have to time to finish you before it snows," she said to the scarf, who she imagined as an impatient old woman. All the tiny threads were little blue arms crossed over each other, disappointed that she had started over a month ago and still wasn't finished.

She loved to sew, and it was something that she found herself doing a lot in the past. Sometimes Lily would be up till all hours, way after Gold's bedroom light flickered off. They both could burn the midnight oil, and it sometimes seemed they were having a competition with each other about who could stay up the latest.

She looked across the room at herself in the vanity mirror, after pulling her hair down and slipping the black band around her wrist. She took a brush from a drawer and started to run it through her red hair, looking absentmindedly to the corner of the mirror, where she had taped a photo.

It was her and Gold, a few years back during the summer. She'd been rummaging through some of his old things after he asked her to help him get some of the clutter out of the attic, and had come across a box of photos. The thing that had stuck with her was that most of the photos were either of her or of Gold, there were very few of them together.

In the photo snow blanketed the ground and covered the house. She was wearing a purple sweater-it was her favorite one, and it still hung in her closet though there were a couple of holes in it. She was leaning backwards with her arms flailing like she was getting ready to catch something, and Gold had his arms under hers. She had her mouth open-like she was screaming, but she wasn't. She wasn't leaning backwards either, for that fact. She had slipped backwards on the ice that covered the front porch and lucky for her Gold had been there to catch her. That scream wasn't a scream-it was laughter from embarassment.

She remembered that day well. She and Gold had been leaving their house to go to the Winter Parade, an annual tradition in Storebrooke. He always put up a fuss about going, every year-but in the end she had always won out. She kept that memory safely tucked away in her head, saving it for nights like these. But oddly enough she couldn't remember who had taken the photo-maybe a neighbor? She didn't know, but the important person wasn't the one who took the photo but the man that was the subject.

She opened the drawer to put the brush away, and found a couple of old pieces of paper-just old scratch paper that she had written grocery lists and notes to herself on. She took one of the pieces of paper out and grabbed a pen that was lying on the vanity. She scrawled a name quickly on the sheet, a name she didn't want to forget.

Rosalind.

She knew Henry's little fantasy was just that-a fantasy. She wasn't in any story, at least that she knew of, but she didn't want to forget the name, or what it meant. Henry had included her, had thought that boring ol' Lily was special enough to squeeze into his book. He'd made room for her, something a lot of people in this town didn't other than Gold. They feared and mistrusted her, all because of her association with Gold. No one said anything to her out loud, but she'd heard the things said behind her back. She was "Mr. Gold's little pet" and "Mr. Gold's little lap dog that did tricks for biscuits". She didn't blame them-how could she? Gold hadn't exactly been a model citizen in Storybrooke, but he wasn't the cruel creature everyone else saw, either.

At least, not to her.

She dropped the little slip of paper on the table beside her bed, and practically swan dove onto the quilt. She rolled over onto ther ler left side, where she she could see the house from her window. The back porch light was on, and despite the fact that she'd seen the light a million times, it brought a smile to her face.

Gold always left the back porch light on for her, just in case she needed to come into the house for something in the middle of the night, or if she got scared she'd have plenty of light. Not that she was scared of anything here-the scariest thing in Storybrooke was the one that left the light on.

* * *

She wouldn't be able to see him, but Mr. Gold sat on his bed, looking out of his window at her little apartment. He had already gotten dressed for bed, already completed his little routine, which ended every night with him taking one last glance out of his bedroom window to his little guesthouse.

Tonight was a little different, however. Tonight there was no brief glance to make sure everything was ok-no, tonight his gaze lingered. His eyes traced the pink outline of the windows, the front door, the pitiful little concrete walkway that snaked its way across the grass. All the while a little scene played out like a play in his mind, a scene that sprung from a name that he hadn't heard spoken in a very long time. There were only two characters in this play-the young red headed heroine and the play's dark antagonist, and the plot revolved around a tipped spinning wheel and one of his many deals, only this deal didn't exactly go according to plan.

But it wasn't his fault that-well, it wasn't completely his fault, but he would take some of the blame. The rest had been all her.

After a few moments, her bedroom went dark, and Gold told himself that she was safe and it was time to retire for the night. He raised his hand to the window, taping on it with a single finger and a tired smile.

"Sleep well, Rosalind."


	4. The Past: A Brief Flicker of Light

After living so many years in the open forest, where sunlight soaked into everything, she never thought she would ever get used to the dimness of the dark castle. She thought she would suffocate in the gray depths, almost like swimming in murky water. He never drew the curtains back, or opened a window to let the fresh air stir the dust.

But strange enough, she had come to find the mild darkness a comfort. She liked being able to disappear into the shadows to do her work, enjoyed the quietness that she was afforded. The darkness held its own magic, apart from that of Rumplestiltskin.

Since Rumple had wandered off, today she had tasked herself with mending a few of his shirts. She sat in the rocking chair that Rumple had given her just last year, rocking gently in front of the thick-curtained window. She almost laughed at what he would say if he could see her now.

_"Such a waste of time! Silly girl, trying to mend magic shirts!"_

_"It helps me to relax...take my mind off things." _It was the same response everytime.

She supposed it was a bit silly-he could have brand new shirts with a simple wave of his hand. They wanted for nothing-he provided all that they needed with magic, but she loved the feel of the needle and thread in her hands. It was the smallest, most unimportant task, but it transfused a peace through her, that started with her finger tips, working its way through her arms and down into her stomach and her legs. But then again, maybe it was a bit silly that he actually wore the mended shirts too.

"Oh Rooooooz! Can you come down for a moment, love? I've come with a gift!"

Suddenly an all too familiar voice trilled up the stair case and wrapped around her. She let the shirt drop on her side table and followed the voice to her doorway. She was frustrated to be pulled from her work, yet a tinge of joy colored her cheek. The truth was he was always a welcomed distraction, though she would never tell him that.

Perhaps she was also a bit curious about this "gift" that he brought...

But her curiosity faded into something a bit more sickening when she saw the woman standing beside Rumple. She felt her face drop so far that she was surprised she didn't have to lean down and pick it up. She was one of the most beautiful women Roz had ever seen, and standing in front of her Roz almost felt embarassed. Her plain green dress was like tattered rags compared to the woman's yellow gown that cascaded to the floor in ruffled layers. Her jeweled sleeves hung from her shoulders, and her dark har coiled down her back, while Rosalind's simple red braid laid like a lifelesss stick down her back.

She was stunning, but what was she doing here?

"Rumple, you didn't mention that we would be having guests..." She fought the urge to hold her head down as she spoke, and gripped the green fabric of her dress with controlled nervousness.

"Oh she's not a guest, love. Rosalind this is Belle, and Belle this is Rosalind, my-" he caught himself, as the word "daughter" was quite honestly the first word that sprang to his mind. The word actually rested quite comfortably on the tip of his tongue, and he had to shake his head just to swallow it back down. "This is Rosalind."

"Hello, Rosalind." Belle picked her dress up and curtsied. "Rumplestiltskin's told me much about you on our travel here." Even her voice was lovely. It wasn't the high pitched sound that Rosalind was expecting, but was much lower, and richer.

"Oh did he?" Her eyes cut quick to him. "That's strange. I've heard nigh a sentence with your name in it."

"Think of her as a stray I picked up on my way home!" Rumple giggled. "Oh well, come Belle!" He grabbed her arm, tugging her behind him as he began to walk to the far side of the Grand Hall.

"Rumple what is she doing here-answer me!" Roz stomped after them, not wanting to let him get away that easily.

"All will be explained in due course, love!" He called back to her.

"Where are you taking me?" Bell questioned him, sneaking glances at the red haired woman behind her every few moments. Was she a prisoner here too? How long had she been here? What deal had been made to gain her?

"Let's just call it...your room!"

* * *

Rosalind walked after him down the corridor, all the while being serenaded by the screaming of Belle and the constant beating on the dungeon door. Rosalind figured she didn't like her room, but she knew the feeling. Rosalind hadn't like it either when it had been her "room."

"Do we really need her? Am I really so awful that you need to replace me-"

Rumple suddenly turned on his heels, tilting his head at her. "Replace you? Is that why you believe I've brought her here?"

"Why else?" Her voice dropped. "You're known throughout these lands for many things, but friendliness isn't one of them."

Rumple took a step back, taking her hands in his with a crooked grin. "I've acquired her for you, Roz, to lift your burden. You have more important things to do than wipe the dust from broken chandeliers and beat dirt from tapestries."

"I don't mind doing those things-"

"Let me put a question to you, love. Why after all these years, do you still question me? Have you not learned that I know what's best?"

"I think you let your love of magic cloud your judgement sometimes."

"Oh quite the opposite! Magic cuts straight to the point of the matter-I see the truth of things, of people, much more clearly than anyone else."

She pulled her hands from his, and let her eyes linger on his face for a moment. "Alright, then help me see clearly now. Why have you brought her here?"

"Her father needed my help in winning a little war-apparently he didn't relish the thought of bring ripped apart by ogres," he chuckled. "He needed magic, and she was the price for it."

"Oh yes, she certainly looks like she knows how to-what did you say? Wipe the dust from chandeliers and beat the dirt from the tapestries! She'll get more in the way than anything..."

She turned away from him, intending to go back to her room and finish mending his shirts and disappear into the shadows that she loved so much. It was a good plan-a solid plan...

But with Rumple, most of her plans got thrown out the window. He gently tugged at the red braid that trailed down her back, knowing that she despised it. "It's my magic, Roz. Bigger and better things are coming, and I need you now more than ever. You're too important."

She couldn't help but let a hint of a smile escape across her face. She was important-her?

"If I'm so important, why wasn't I told of this before you decided to strike a deal?" She couldn't let his little compliment sway her, though there was a part of her that wanted to.

"Please," his voice grew somber as he pleaded with her, "just trust me, Rosalind. That's all I ask. You'll grow used to having her around."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but the way he looked at her made her stop. What would she have said, anyway? She knew at the end of the day, he would get his way and the stranger would stay.

"Fine, Rumple. I won't fight you anymore." This time he didn't try to stop her as she turned her back to him, whispering under her breath as she created more distance between them.

"I just hope I don't come to regret this."

* * *

Three months had passed, and though Rosalind wanted nothing to do with Belle, it felt nice having another woman around. Of course she would never admit that aloud to her. She wasn't overly friendly, but there were times she found herself in conversation with the other woman, letting her defenses down just a bit more each time. Though to use the word "friend" would have been quite a stretch.

The three of them had congregated in the Grand Hall, where Belle was busy dusting the thick cutains. Rumple was furiously spinning, and Rosalind was nestled beside his wheel, grinding away at a plant that held magical properties.

"Fetch me some more straw, will you love?" He leaned down to whisper to her, keeping one eye on Belle.

Without a word she stood, brushing the dust from the hem of her dress. The storeroom was in a large cellar just below the Grand Hall, accessible only by a narrow stone staircase. She lit the torches that clung to the wall as she decended, careful to take one step at a time. One stumble was all she needed to end up with a broken neck.

A cold draft swept up the stairs, wrapping the bottom of her dress around her legs. The fire of the torches didn't give her much light, but it was enough to keep the darkness off of her for a couple of feet. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she didn't have to go much further for the straw. It was baled in perfect squares, stacked on top of each other. The reached to the top of the cellar, and nearly touched the walls on all four sides. To any normal person, there appeared to be enough straw here to last a lifetime, but for someone like Rumplestiltskin, one lifetime worth of straw just wouldn't be enough.

She hauled two larger bales back up the stone stairs and into the Grand Hall, half expecting Belle to have found her a spot close to Rumple, but she was no where to be seen.

Roz dropped the bales by the spinning wheel, taking one more look around the Hall. Perhaps she had missed her-but no, she wasn't in here at all.

"Where did Belle run off to?"

"While you were in the cellar I told her to go into town, to fetch more straw." He answered her question without even looking at her.

She sank down once more against his stool, picking up the bowl and grinding together the plants. Once the stems were pulverized, she could make a nice healing potion. "Why would you tell her that, knowing the storeroom is stacked to the ceiling with your precious straw?"

"You should be happy," he said flatly. He didn't turn to look at her, or even slow the wheel. "She won't be returning."

She shrugged her shoulders with a loud sigh. "Alright then, if that's what you believe..."

At once he stopped and stared down at her. "What makes you say that?"

She pressed the grinding rock harder against the stubborn plant roots. "She makes you happy, doesn't she?"

"What does that have to do-I mean, why do you think she'll be back? Have you forgotten that I'm the cruel beast that has stolen her away?" He turned back to his wheel, his voice suddenly getting uncharacteristically quiet. "No, I'll never see that girl again."

"I always came back." And that was how she knew that Belle would always come back. Roz saw the way that Belle looked at him, the stolen glances when she thought there was no one looking, the way Belle always found herself in the same room with him even if she had no chores there. If there was only one thing the two women had in common, in was their feelings toward Rumplestitskin-Belle couldn't leave him, even if she tried.

He stopped once more, and looked down at her with a grin. "Yes, you did." And though he would never tell her, he was always relieved when he looked out his window and saw her coming back up the stone path, with her little basket of whatever he had asked her to pick up swinging from her arm.

She nodded. "That's how I know she'll come back. But you never answered my question."

"And what question would that be?"

"Does she make you happy?"

He struggled to give her an answer-at least, an answer she would accept. "She doesn't make me...unhappy."

She deliberately shrugged her shoulders, obviously not satisfied with that answer. "She must make you feel something. I've never known you to break a deal."

"Not usually...though there was one time..."

She glanced up at him, not believing _that_ statement for a second. "When? You never told me that story before!"

"Oh it's no story, I promise you that."

"Tell me then." She put her grinding stone down and spun around to face him, resting her head against the leg of the spinning wheel like a little girl about to be told a bedtime story. "We can chase time until Belle returns."

"Oh no, now's not the time. Maybe another day-"

"Well at least tell me what would make you break a deal."

He stopped once again to tug playfully on her braid. "We're quite demanding today, aren't we?"

"Sorry," she giggled. "You know why I'm curious-everyone knows Rumplestiltskin never breaks a deal!"

"Every so often I find myself arriving at those rare moments when the price is no longer worth it." It was the only answer that he would give her.

"But isn't Belle worth the price?"

She had her answer when he let his eyes falter-just for the briefest flicker of a flame. "Let's just say she outlived her usefulness, and leave it at that, love."

"Alright then, I'll give you some peace for the moment," she giggled, through the joy in her voice didn't quite make it up to her eyes. The balance between her happiness and his mirth had always been carefully preserved, like a crystal chandelier with just enough weight on either side to keep it from tilting. But Belle was a strong draft, rocking and shaking the chandelier until it almost crashed to the ground.

On the other hand, Roz had noted the subtle changes in him. The castle seemed just a touch brighter, and it wasn't all due to the fact that for the first time since Roz had been here the curtains were drawn back to usher in the sun. That was the reason she had tolerated her-she understood he wouldn't be able to pinpoint it, but Belle had made him happy. The more Belle was around, the more of Rumplestiltskin came to the surface, while the Dark One seemed to disappear.

"Well, back to wiping the dust from chandeliers and beating the dirt from tapestries it is, then," she teased as she pushed herself up.

Rumple grabbed her wrist before she could even take the first step. "I'll find someone else, Rosalind, to lift your burden-"

"What burden? We made a deal, didn't we? My undying servitude forever-don't you remember?" She eased her wrist away from him and started across the Great Hall, to the large window, with its thick glass that encompassed nearly the whole wall.

"Oh yes, I remember..." Rumple spoke under his breath, watching her move away from him. She wanted to know the story of his broken deal, but what she didn't know was that it was _her_ story. The truth was, he had stopped looking at her as a "mere servant" a long time ago. She was everybit a part of him, like his own son had been. Like Belle, he had given her hundreds of chances to leave, yet she had always returned, had always held up her end of the deal.

Roz didn't notice him watching her-she was too busy wiping a smudge tht had appeared against the glass-it appeared to be a handprint. She almost turned away, proud of her work, but something caught her eye coming up the hill. It seemed to be a figure, wrapped in a blue and green cloak and carrying a basket of straw. A slight smile crawled across her face, accompanied by fears that she had to press back. "Looks like I was right-" Before she could even finish her statement he was pressing his face against the glass, completely undoing the work she had just done.

"But why..." He couldn't even finish his statement before he had disappeared from sight, leaving Rosalind all alone in the Grand Hall. Looking out the window she couldn't help but feel a twinge of happiness, but it wasn't enough to bury the single stab of anger that seemed to pierce her throat, leaving her with one thought.

With Belle here, how long until she outlived _her_ usefulness?


End file.
